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SOLDIER'S STORY 



PRISON LIFE AND OTHER INCI- 
DENTS IN THE WAR OF l861-'65 






MILES O. SHERRILL 



OF CATAWBA. OOUNTY 



A SOLDIER'S STORY: 

PRISON LIFE AND OTHER INCIDENTS IN 
THE WAR OF 1861-'65. 



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BY 

MILES O. SHERRILL, 

Of Catawba County, - North Carolina. 



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A SOLDIER'S STORY. 



[From Newton Enterprise.] 

I liave been, requested to write some incidents, experiences 
and observations of prison life during the war of 1861-'65. 
After thirty-eight or thirty-nine years it is somewhat difficult 
to recall anything like all that transpired in those dark days. 
Some people say it is time to stop talking about that war. 
Now, that would be a hard thing for those who lived in those 
days to do: stop talking about the war. The men, women 
and children at home had almost as hard a time as those at 
the front — not quite so dangerous, yet it required courage and 
true patriotism to stand in their places. Furthermore, it 
seems necessary, in order to keep history straight, that those 
who lived and participated in that part of our history should 
occasionally be heard from, otherwise those who write so 
much, who live north of the Mason and Dixon's line, would 
make our rising generation believe what is false. So I say to 
all such : "l^othing in the past is dead to the man who would 
learn how the present came to be what it is." Much has been 
written and said by our Northern friends as to the suffering 
of the Union soldiers in Southern prisons — Andersonville, 
Salisbury and other places — during that war. They draw 
an awful picture of their poor soldiers suffering and dying 
in Southern prisons. In some respects this was true. To be 
in prison of itself was bad enough, but to be there without 
proper food or medicine was very bad indeed. The South 
did not have the means, neither the medicine, but the pris- 
oners in our care were put on the same footing as our own 
poor soldiers. The question is : Who was to blame for this 
state of tilings? The Confederate authorities made proposi- 
tion after proposition for exchange of prisoners, but the Gov- 
ernment at Washington positively declined. It is said that 



4 A Soldier's Story. 

General Grant said: "It was hard, and a great sacrifice, to 
leave the Union soldiers in Southern prisons, but it must be 
made ; that the Confederates could not afford to leave their 
men in prison for want of men to take their place, but the 
United States could ; to exchange the prisoners the Confeder- 
ates would return to the army and go tO' fighting again." So 
here is the key to the responsibility for all the suffering and 
deaths on both sides in the prisons. The Confederate Gov- 
ernment offered to let them send medicine South for their 
sick prisoners, but they declined to do that. It must be re- 
membered the Confederate Government was shut in from the 
outside world, and could not secure necessary medicine, etc. 
Now, as to Andersonville, it was under the command of Wirtz, 
and since men have had time to cool off it has long since been 
decided that the hanging of that poor man was simply mur- 
der. He did the best he could for the poor prisoners there. 
General Dick Taylor in his book, "Destruction and Recon- 
struction," gives the following account of meeting wdth Wirtz, 
as his troops were passing Andersonville, during the march of 
Sherman through Georgia, in 1864: "In this journey tlirough 
Georgia, at Andersonville, we passed in sight of a large stock- 
ade inclosing prisoners of war. The train stopped for a few 
moments, and there entered the carriage to speak to me a man 
who said his name was Wirtz, and that he was in charge of 
the prisoners near by. He complained of the inadequacy of 
his guard and the want of supplies, as the adjacent country 
was sterile and thinly populated. He also said that the pris- 
oners were suffering from cold, were destitute of blankets, 
and that he had not wagons to supply fuel. He showed me 
duplicates of requisitions and appeals for relief that he had 
made to different authorities, and these I endorsed in the 
strongest terms possible, hoping to accomplish some good. T 
know nothing of this (man) Wirtz, whom I then met for 
the first and only tim€, but he appeared to be in earnest in 
his desire to mitigate the condition of his prisoners. There 
<?an be but little doubt that his execution was a 'sop' to the 



Peison Life and Other, Incidents. 5 

passions of the 'many-lieaded.' " So, then, poor Wirtz was 
made a scape-goat to cover the sins of those who conld have 
had those poor prisoners released at any time but would not. 
The sacrifice was made to quiet the poor prisoners and their 
friends. Many things will be settled at the great Assize, 
when the Judge of all shall sit in judgment. 

Let us have tlie official record on prison life, and see the 
truth of history : 

United States prisoners held in Southern prisons, . 270,000 

United States prisoners died in Southern prisons, . 22,000 

About 8 per cent. 

Confederate prisoners held in Northern prisons, . . 220,000 

Confederate prisoners died in Northern prisons, . . 26,000 

About 12 per cent. 

The North is said to be more healthy than the South, and 
yet of the 270,000 Northern soldiers in Southern prisons, 
only 22,000 died, while of the 220,000 Confederates in North- 
em prisons (50,000 less than we had of theirs) 26,000 
died. The deaths in Northern prisons exceeded the deaths 
in Southern prisons four thousand men. While about eight 
per cent of the Union prisoners died, about twelve per cent 
of the Southern j^risoners in Northern prisons died. ''Tell 
it not in Gath, and publish it not in the streets of Askelon." 
Facts and figures are wonderful things. Now, I have made 
this long statement before coming to the "incidents of prison 
life," as seen by myself et al. I have done so for the purpose 
of trjdng tO' keep the record correct, that justice might be 
done to all, and history speak the truth. 

I was shot in the first charge that was made at Spottsylvania 
Court-House, Virginia, early on the morning of the 9th day of 
May, 1864. The charge was made by our brigade, composed 
of the Fifth, Twelfth, Twentieth and Twenty-third N. C. 
Regiments, led by General R. D. Johnston. The charge was 
a success so far as the enemy in our front were concerned, but 
our lines were overlapped by Burnside's trooj^s. Our regi- 
ment (the Twelfth) and our company (A), being on the ex- 



6 A Soldier's Stoky. 

treme right, were exposed to an enfilading fire clear across an 
open field ; so we were exposed to a fire from front and from 
the right. The enemy had torn down a rail fence and made 
temporary breast-works in our front, from which our men 
drove them, but could not hold the position because Burnside's 
whole army corps was on hand, and could easily have cut off 
our little brigade ; so General Johnston gave the command to 
fall back. As our troops fell back. Sergeant Silas Sniyre (now 
county commissioner of Catawba) and Corporal E. G. Bost 
endeavored to carry me from the battlefield. They were so 
exhausted from marching and fighting that they could not 
hold me up so as to prevent the crushed leg from dragging on 
the ground. To prevent their being captured, I begged them 
to leave me to my fate. (May I never forget this act of kind- 
ness by these brave men, who risked so much for me.) I was 
in the broiling hot sun, without water, my canteen having 
been shot in the fight, and the water all run out. 

I was concealed from the enemy by some shrubbery. Late 
in the afternoon I realized that I could not live without water. 
The loss of blood, together with the burning rays of the sun, 
made me feel that life was about to ebb out ; so I called to 
the enemy and surrendered. Here I commenced the life of a 
prisoner, which lasted ten months. Besides the suffering from 
wounds, tlie humility, the loss of liberty, the absence of all 
friends and loved ones, no face but that of enemies, was just 
about as much as I could bear up under in my condition. In 
that hour home and friends would have been "a haven of rest" 
sure enough. 

The day following, May 10, 1864, when I was laid on the 
slaughter table, my eyes caught the sight of anus and legs 
piled on the ground — an indication of what I might expect. 
Dr. Cox, of Ohio, examined my leg. The only conversation 
that passed between us was this : I said, "Doctor, can you save 
my leg?" He replied, "I fear not, Johmiy." Chloroform 
was applied, and when restored to consciousness I was minus 
one limb. I lay there in what was designated "a field hospi- 



Prison Life axd Other Incidents. Y 

tal" for two or three days without any further attention to 
the wound, and the result was the flies "blowed" the ampu- 
tated limb, and when I reached Alexandria City, some days 
later, the nurse who dressed the wound found that I was being 
eat up by the vermin. Just here I will state that on the 
last day spent at the field hospital there was a great rush in 
gathering us up in ambulances. Under great excitement, I 
said to the doctor who was supervising the movement : "Doc- 
tor, what is the matter ?" He replied that "Burnside was fall- 
ing back to get a better position." I had been in the anny long 
enough to know that was an evasive answer. The fact was 
that our troops were driving Burnside back, and the Fed- 
erals were not willing to lose any of their prisoners though 
maimed for life. The roads from this place were cut to 
pieces by the artillery and wagon trains of the Union army 
going to the front. Those of us who were badly wounded 
cried for mercy. ISTo mercy came until we reached the boat- 
landing, where we (those living) were transferred from am- 
bulance to the boat. I do not know how many died en route 
from the battlefield to the boat-landing. I do know that 
Charles P. Powell, Adjutant of the Twenty-third ISTorth Caro- 
lina Regiment, who had lost his leg just as I had, died on 
this trip, and they stopped on the roadside and covered him 
up. This young man Powell was from Richmond County, 
N^. C. He was a private soldier at Malvern Hill, July, 1862. 
When in line of battle, in front of the artillery, a shell fell in 
the ranks. The men could not leave the line of battle. There 
lay the shell, sputtering, ready to explode. Young Powell 
sprang'up, grappled the shell and "soused" it into a pool of 
water near by. What a risk was that ! Yet that heroic act 
may have saved the lives of several men. Later that day he 
was wounded, and again at the battle of Gettysburg in July, 
1863, and died as above stated. On page 189 of Volume II, 
ISTorth Carolina Regimental Histories, it is stated that C. P. 
Powell, Adjutant, was killed on the 9th of May, 1864, 
whereas the truth is he was shot on the 9th and his leg was 



8 A Soldier's Story. 

amputated, and about the lltli or 12tli of May he was jolted 
to death between Spottsylvania Court-House and Bell Plains. 
I venture the assertion that he was not buried two and a half 
feet deep ; and the place is unknown to his people, who think 
he was buried on the battlefield. We were shipped to Alexan- 
dria City, where I spent tliree months in the "Marshall 
House," where the proprietor, Jackson, shot and killed Colo- 
nel Ellsworth, who tore down his Confederate flag in April, 
1861, and Jackson was killed by Frank Brownwell, of Colonel 
Ellsworth's regiment. This hotel was used as a prison hospi- 
tal for those who were permanently disabled. For awhile the 
patriotic women of Alexandria were permitted to visit us, and 
often when they would bid us good-bye a "green-back" bill or 
something else was left in our hand. However, before we 
were removed from there the good women were prohibited 
fromi coming to see us. 

While a prisoner here our troops, under General Early 
came down near Washington City, and there was great excite- 
ment in Washington and Alexandria, for it did seem that 
the Confederates were going into Washington. We prisoners 
were expecting to be released and get home, but our expecta- 
tions were soon blasted by the Confederates having to retreat 
back to the south side of the Potomac, and did not come via 
Alexandria. My next move was to the Lincoln Hospital in 
Washington City. Here I ?pent about two- months. After I 
could walk with crutches I was transferred to the old Capitol 
Prison. I was honored with a seat in the old Qapitol, but 
had to look through iron bars. While here I was guilty of 
"cruelty to bugs," if not to animals, in the common accepta- 
tion of that tenn. (Just here by way of parenthesis.) I 
know how to appreciate the traveling man's experience given 
by "Red Buck," in Charlotte Observer^ of September 11, 
1903. Night after night I suffered from the onslaughts of 
those "bugs" — no telling how much I endured. "Weeping 
endureth for the night, but joy cometh in the morning." 
They had all the "innings" at night, but in the morning I 



Prison Life and Other Incidents. 9 

would take my turn at the bat. As soon as it was light enough 
to see I Avould sit upon my humble couch (I was myself a 
picture of humility) and commence a war of revenge. , As 
they would take to the wall I would go for them, and before 
I left that prison many, many "bugs" were slaughtered, as 
the blood-stained wall bore testimony. Yes, that wall was 
well striped with Confederate blood. The loss of blood in 
that way, if not with as much pain, was attended with much 
more genuine disgust. Hoav much I would have liked to "ex- 
press myself," but my lips were hermetically sealed. I 
learned how to sympathize with Pharaoh and his people, 
though there is no statement that any of this kind were sent 
on him when Moses and the Israelites were asking permission 
to leave. In N'ovember, 1864, I (with others) was shipped 
off to Elmyra, 'N. Y. "Thus when I shun Scylla, your fa- 
ther, I fall into Charybdis, your mother." 

Leaving the old Capitol Prison, I got away at least from the 
multitude of B. B.'s, but I ran into the B. L.'s — army body 
lice, or what the soldiers call "grey backs." Later on I may 
speak of my experience with this pest while in the small-pox 
camp. 

We reached Elmyra, IST. Y., on Sunday morning. Being 
in the mountains, the ground was covered with snow. AitIv- 
ing at the barracks, we were lined up (I was on my crutches, 
and had tO' stand there on one foot for what seemed to me a 
very long time) just inside the gate, negro soldiers on giiard. 
The commanding officer. Major Beal, greeted us with the 
most bitter oaths that I ever heard. He swore that he was 
going to send us out and have us shot ; said he had no room 
for us, and that we (meaning the Confederate soldiers) had 
no mercy on their colored soldiers or prisoners. He was half 
drunk, and I Avas not sure but that Ave might be dealt with 
then and there. Then we were searched and robbed of knives, 
cash, etc., and sent into various wards. While we were stand- 
ing in the snow, hearing the abuse of Major Beal, some poor 
ragged Confederate prisoners were marched by with what Avas 



10 A Soldier's Story. 

designated as barrel shirts, with the word "thief" written in 
large letters pasted on the back of each barrel, and a squad 
of Uttle drtmuner boys following beating the drums. The 
mode of wearing the barrel shirts was to take an ordinary 
flour barrel, cut a hole through the bottom large enough for 
the head to go through, with arm-holes on the right and left, 
through which the arms were to be placed. This was put on the 
poor fellow, resting on his shoulders, his head and arms com- 
ing through as indicated above ; thus they were made to march 
around for so many hours and so many days. ISTow, what 
do you suppose they had stolen ? Why, something to eat. 
Yes, they had stolen cabbage leaves and other things from 
slop barrels, which was a violation of the rules of the prison. 
One large, robust prisoner from Virginia was brought into 
the surgical ward where I was, having been seriously wounded 
by one of the guards. On inquiry, I learned that the poor 
fellow was caught fishing out scraps from a slop barrel and 
was shot for it. A small, very thin piece of light-bread with a 
tin pint cup' full of what purported to be soup twice a day 
was the rations for the prisoners. I heard the men say : "My 
soup has only three eyes on it" — meaning there was no grease 
in it — only hot water. I^ow, this fare was not enough to 
sustain life in healthy, able-bodied men. The result was that 
Avhere they could not make something — make rings, etc. — and 
thus secure something from the sutlers, many, yea hundreds 
of the poor fellows would be attacked with dysentery — so 
common and often so fatal in camp, and especially in prison 
life. The food they had seemed to be only enough to feed 
the disease; the result was that scores and hundreds died. 
Speaking of the light-bread, the Confederates would some- 
times hold it up and declare "that it was so thin that they 
could read the Neiv York Herald through it" ; then they 
would grab it and squeeze it up in one hand till it looked 
about like a small biscuit. Men died there for the want of 
food. I do not know, it may be that the Government issued 
enough rations, but it had to pass through too many hands 



Prison Life and Other Incidents. 11 

before reaching th soldiers. The truth is that there was a 
great deal of speculation and swindling carried on in the 
prisons ; and I am ashamed to say it, yet it is true that some- 
times some of our own men were engaged in the conspiracy to 
cheat and defraud their fellow-j)risoners. It was in this way : 
those in charge of the prison would take Confederates and 
make ward-masters, etc., of them (like in prisons now a few 
are made "trusties") ; and a little authority, even of that kind, 
w^ould ruin some men. Some prisoners, like Jeshrun, grew 
fat, but others starved for Avant of suitable food and enough 
of it. Well, to go back a little, while standing there, receiving 
the profane blessing from Major Beal, I saw drawing near 
as he dared to venture an old fellow-prisoner that I had met 
in Washington, who had preceded me to this place. I do 
not remember his name. I had at Washington nicknamed 
him "Softy." He recognized me, and as Beal closed his elo- 
quent abuse, and we were ordered to march into the barracks^ 
"Softy" ventured in a low tone to speak to me. His greet- 
ing was : "Sherrill, you have come to hell at last. Did you 
see those four-horse wagons going out ? They were full of 
dead men, who died last night. They are dying by hundreds 
here with small-pox and other diseases." He was discovered 
by one of the guards (standing too near us). He hollowed 
at him : "Get away from there." He got away immediately, 
if not sooner. When I reflected on the situation — the cursing 
major, the colored guards, the robbing us of our little stock of 
valuables, the barrel shirts, the wagons with the dead, the ap- 
pearance of some of the living, the earth covered with snow — 
I thought, "Well, ^Softy' has given a true bill." When I was 
located, I found I had kinsfolk there: J. U. Long (now 
chairman of the board of county commissioners), l^icholas 
Sherrill and W. P. Sherrill. There may have been others, 
but I do not recall them now. My haversack had been sup- 
plied with rations on leaving Washington. When I was lo- 
cated in the ward, "Nick" Sherrill came to see me. Of course 
we were glad to see each other, for it had been many moons 



LofC. 



12 A Soi^diee's Story. 

since we had met. We Avere not in the same command in the 
army. "Nick" asked me if I had anything to eat. I replied, 
*'Yes." He said: ^'I want to trade you a cup, spoon, etc., for 
some hread ; I am about perislied." Poor fellow, he looked 
the picture of despair. I said : "Nick, I do not want your cup 
and spoons, but you are welcome to what I have." He de- 
voured in short order all that I had, and wanted more. Poor 
fellow, he soon died, as did W. P. Sherrill; died away from 
home and loved ones, buried by their enemies. I had to spend 
several days in the barracks before I was transferred to the 
surgical or hospital ward. I was there long enough to know 
why Cousin Nicholas was so anxious for my bread. After I 
was placed in the surgical ward of the hospital I fared fairly 
well — a great improvement over the fare out in the wards of 
the regular prison. After a few weeks I was taken with 
small-pox, and of course was transferred over S. Creek to the 
small-pox campi. I was carried over on a cot, or "stretcher," 
with blanket thrown over my face. When I reached the 
place, and the blanket was removed, I found myself in a large 
"wall tent," with several cots, or "bunks," about two and a 
half feet wide, with two Confederates on each "bunk," in 
reverse order, i. e., A's head at one end and B's at the other — 
so your bed-fellow's feet were in very close proximity to your 
face. They were all sandwiched in this way, because the bed 
was too narrow to admit of the two to lay shoulder to shoulder. 
On waking up on a morning one of these poor fellows would 
be dead and the other alive; this, of course, occurred day 
after day, and night after night. Well might those poor 
fellows, who had spent at least a part of the night with a 
corpse for a bed-fellow, have exclaimed with St. Paul, "Who 
shall deliver me from the body of this death ?" When I took 
in the situation, I told the man who was going to place me on 
a bunk by the side of a poor fellow bad off with that awful 
disease (and who finally died) "that he could not put me on 
there." He replied "that he would show me whether he could 
■ or not." I stuck to it that I would not be put there. The 



Prison Life and Other Incidents. 13 

fellow went and brought in the ward-master, and when he 
appeared it was Jack Redman, from Cleveland County, Com- 
pany E, my regiment. Redman said, "Why, hello, Sherrill, 
was it you that was raising such a racket ?" I told him it was. 
He wanted to know what was the matter. I explained that 
with my amputated limb it would never do to put me on 
a bunk vnth another fellow, and he finally consented to ar- 
range for me to have one to myself. I said: "Redman, you 
must grant me another favor." He wished to know what it 
was. I replied : "I want you to let me keep my blanket that 
came over from the surgical ward." "Why so, Sherrill ?" I 
said : "Jack, you see those blankets that you fellows have been 
using on these men — there are five 'army lice' to every hair 
•on the blanket." Redman took a hearty laugh. He knew 
there was more tnith in it than poetry, so he granted my re- 
quest. Redman had had small-pox and was an "immune," 
hence was made a ward-master. He was especially kind and 
considerate towards me. When I got well and was carried 
away, I never knew what became of him. Some of our men 
w4io felt that the thing was gone, and that we could not suc- 
ceed, never came back South. I am inclined to think that 
Redman did that thing. After the doctor had declared me 
well, and directed that I should be removed back to the hospi- 
tal ward from whence I came, this was indeed glorious news ; 
for of all the diseases that flesh is heir to, small-pox is the 
filthiest. The small-pox such as we had there was "sure 
enough" small-pox. Such as we have in I^ortli Carolina these 
days, in comparison with that, is only make-believe. I don't 
think it an exaggeration to say that seven out of ten wdio had 
it died. I was carried over into what was called a bath- 
house, where I was placed in a large bath-tub of Avater, almost 
too hot to bear. The Yanl^ee soldier who had charge went out 
to look after something else or to loiter around, and I waited 
and waited for his return (the water was beginning to get 
cold) so I could get out and get clothing to put on. The 
atmosphere of the room was colder, if anything, than the 



14 A Soldier's Story. 

water, I was in great distress, and it seemed that I could 
make no one hear me ; so I had tO' wait the return of the vil- 
lain, who finally came when the water in the bath-tub seemed 
to me to be nearly to the freezing point. He came, bringing 
a full Yankee suit, and when I gave him a piece of my mind 
he apologized and begged me not to speak of it — said he had 
actually forgotten me. When I reached the hospital ward I 
was a blue man in feelings and in appearance. I was dressed 
in a Yankee suit, even to a cap. I felt humiliated, and my 
skin was blue from cold. But for the kindness of my com- 
rades there, giving me of their allowance of spirits that night, 
I don't know but what I would have gone hence. 

Along toward the close of February, 1865, I with others, 
was marched to the train and shipped to Richmond. I think 
that was the happiest day that I ever experienced in my life. 
To get out of that death-hole was enough to make one happy ; 
and to add to it the prospect of getting home to friends and 
loved ones, from whom I had been so long separated, not hav- 
ing heard from them in ten months, was indeed a treat. Many 
and great changes had taken place since I had left Dixie. I 
never did doubt that we would eventually succeed. I presume 
I was cheered up and was kept optimistic from the many 
rumors all the time in circulation that France and England 
would soon recogTiize our independence; which, of course, 
never took place. The air was filled with that and other 
rumors, not only in the Confederate army, but even in prison. 
Such rumors of great victories for the Confederate arms were 
all the time circulating among the poor fellows. As I came on 
from New York it looked to me as if the whole world was 
being uniformed in blue and moving toward General Grant's 
army. As we came up the James River, both sides were lined 
with soldiers dressed in blue. When we came to the Confed- 
erate lines, seeing such few ragged men confronting all that 
blue host, my courage came near failing me. In fact, I could 
not see how this little thin line of Confederates could hold at 
bay such a multitude of well-fed, well-equipped men. The 



Prison Life and Other Incidents. 15 

patriotic women of Richmond tried to be cheerful, but T 
could see plainly enough that thej were depressed. While 
they were just as kind in their attention to the returning sol- 
diers as in former days, yet it was evident that the cheerful 
hope of former days was gone. When I reached home I soon 
learned that many who were living on the 9th of May, 1864, 
when we made that charge, had been numbered with the dead. 
Among others was my nephew, James Ferdinand Robinson, 
a young man a few months younger than myself, a great 
favorite in the company, full of humor and wit. He was a 
sharp-shooter, and was found dead on the 12th of May, 1864, 
by Frank Turbyfield, of the Twenty-third Regiment. After 
the fighting on the morning of the 9th, he wrote a letter in 
pencil to his father, Marion Robinson, in which he stated : 
"My Uncle Miles was killed in the charge made early this 
morning." Two days later he was killed. I got home to 
read his letter relative to my death ; but he, poor fellow, was 
gone. I have not seen the letter since 1865 ; so I only quote 
from memory what I remember. 

Such is war. Many people have an erroneous idea about 
that war. They blame President Davis and President Lincoln 
for the whole thing; when in fact they were only placed at the 
head. Both made blunders ; so would any one else in their 
positions. Davis was not an original secessionist, but went 
with his State. He was a United States Senator at the time, 
from Mississippi. He had served with distinction in the war 
with Mexico. Who has not read of "Colonel Jeff. Davis and 
his brave Mississippi riflemen" ? Mr. Davis did not desire to 
be President ; he desired to go in the army. He had been 
Secretary of War of the United States ; had, as stated above, 
served in the United States army ; so it was natural for him 
to prefer the army to being President. As to his taking the 
responsibility of making peace sooner, I have seen it stated 
that had he attempted to do so in 1864, on any tenns save 
independence, the army and the people of the South would 
not have submitted to it. I think myself this is true. He, as 



IG A Soldier's Story. 

well as General Lee, liad a hard time ; they were both weighed 
down with trouble, cares and responsibilities. He had no more 
to do with the assassination of President Lincoln than you or 
I. He was cast into prison, manacled and placed in a dun- 
geon. (Greneral Miles would be glad now if he never had put 
shackles on him. ) A soldier was placed where an eye always 
rested on Mr. Davis. This was a great annoyance to him. 

General Dick Taylor, w^ho succeeded in getting permis- 
sion from President Johnson to visit President Davis at 
Fortress Monroe, makes the following 'statement : '^It was 
with some emotion that I reached the casement in which Mr. 
Davis Avas confined. There were two rooms, in the outer of 
w^hich, near the entrance, stood a sentinel, and in the inner 
was Jefferson Davis. We met in silence, wdth grasp of hands. 
Afterw^ards he said: 'This is kind, but no more than I ex- 
pected of you.' Pallid, worn, gray, bent, feeble, suffering 
from inflammation of the eyes, he was a painful sight to a 
friend. Lie uttered no plaint, and made no allusion to the 
irons. He said the light kept all night in his room hurt his 
eyes, and the noise made every two hours by relieving the 
sentry prevented much sleep; but that matters had changed 
for the better since the arrival of General Burton, who was 
all kindness, and strained his orders to the utmost in his be- 
half,' etc." Mr. Davis was no doubt a great and good man, 
for General Taylor, on speaking of some kindness shown to 
him during the war, said : ''No wonder that all who enjoy the 
friendship of Jeff'erson Davis love him as Jonathan did Da- 
vid." Had Mr. Davis been a traitor and rebel any more than 
other leaders of the South, and had he been guilty as charged, 
of course .he would have been tried and executed. It was 
not done simply because it would have been an open violation 
of law, and the people of our country had had time to cool off. 
So Mr. Davis was released. We all believe that had Mr. 
Lincoln lived w'e never would have had to go through the 
farce and humility of reconstruction. Excuse me, Mr. Editor, 
for this divergence. I have done so "lest we forget ; lest we 



Pkison Life and Other Incidents. 17 

forget," There are many humorous, ludicrous, laughable 
things that occurred in prison life, connected with the negro 
soldiers (sparring between the colored guard and the Confed- 
erate prisoners) that will not do to publish; so I forbear to 
give any of them. 

It is indeed wonderful how the prisoners would work to 
make a little money. One of the most common occupations 
was to make finger rings ; they did some real nice work. Some 
of the men would secure a few cents, and on that little capital 
build up quite a business. Some had teachers and attended 
school. The teachers were, of course, fellow-prisoners with 
the pupils. As before stated, I was in the surgical ward while 
in 'New York, and had no personal experience in the traffic 
and trading above alluded to, for it was not allowed in the 
hospital wards, Mr. John Gray Bynum, of Mountain Creek 
township, was a ward-master while a prisoner at Elmyra (and 
made a good one, too). He could give some rich incidents 
of prison life ; and so could our mutual friend Phillip A. 
Hoyle, who was a prisoner at Point Lookout, Md. It may not 
be generally known that Mr. A. A. Shuford, of Hickory, one 
of our successful business men, made his start as a trader 
while a prisoner of war. It is my understanding that such 
is the case. It was while in prison that Mr. Shuford mani- 
fested a talent and a liking for trade and traffic, and on a 
small scale made a success while in prison. Having thus im- 
bibed the business spirit while in prison, on his liberation and 
return home he left the fann and old homestead and went to 
Hickory and engaged in business with his brother ''Dolph" 
and W. H. Ellis. How w^ell he has succeeded is a matter of 
history, and who can tell what influence his experience in 
prison inay have had on his subsequent life ? A. A. Shuford 
and P. A. Hoyle belonged to the gallant Twenty-third l^orth 
Carolina Regiment and suffered together at Point Lookout, 
where the water was impregnated with copperas, thus caus- 
ing the death of thousands of as brave men as ever carried a 
gun. I am reminded that General Lee sa^^s in his memoirs 



18 A Soldier's Stoky. 

that he used every effort and means at his command to effect 
an exchange of prisoners, but General Grant refused. 

As before stated, General Grant refused to exchange as a 
war measure, and it had the desired effect. 

That there were some men in uniforms who might be 
classed as brutes is not to be denied ; we are thankful the 
nmnber was coraparatively small. In the campaign into 
Maryland in 1862, our regiment was in the division com- 
manded by the gallant Gen. D. H. Hill, who held the moun- 
tain j)asses against overwhelming numbers. My younger 
brother, James Albert Sherrill, who had been Avith us only 
six months, fell dangerously wounded just at the time the 
command was given to fall back. Of course he fell into the 
hands of the enemy ; there, lying weltering in his blood, the 
enemy came on him, and instead of ministering to his wants, 
a brute in human form in uniform took his bayonet and stab- 
bed the poor boy to death. I did not see this, but Alfred Sig- 
mon, of Catawba County, who was also wounded, was an eye- 
witness to the tragedy. I give this incident as it came near 
to me ; many others just as cruel might be given. It would 
not do to hold General McClelland or his true soldiers respon- 
sible for the conduct of a drunken, cowardly brute. The 
Union army was afflicted by having foreign soldiers who could 
not speak the English language. We have met the Union 
soldiers when many of them were so drunk they could hardly 
tell what they were doing. 

There never was any trouble between true soldiers, whether 
they wore the blue or the gray. It was the warlike civilians 
who did not fight and the soldiers who were mere hangers-on 
and camp followers that made the trouble. But for the in- 
fluence of General Grant and other army ofiicers we would 
have fared much worse in the South after the close of the war 
than we did ; they, as conquerors, became our protectors. The 
true soldiers could be seen exchanging coffee for tobacco, 
going in bathing at the same time, in the same river; and 
when the enemy fell into his hands as a prisoner he would 



Prison Life and Other Incidents. 19 

entity his own haversack and the canteen to relieve his 
prisoner. When there was no fighting going on, the soldiers 
of the two armies w^ere on the best of terms. The outrages 
committed on either side dnring the war were not attribntable 
to the trne soldier; neither can the ontrages perpetrated on 
the Sonth after the war be charged np to the United States 
Army proper, but to the "bummers," wdio were no good in 
the army or at home. 

The storm has long since gone by. The true soldier has no 
prejudice against the soldier who fought on the other side. 
The blue and the gray have since w^orn the blue in the war 
with Spain — an evidence of reconciliation betw^een the Con- 
federate and Union soldiers of 1861-'65. 



20 A Soldier's Story. 



Since writing the foregoing- sketch I have received the 
following ''Memorial Day Ode," from the pen of my friend. 
Rev. G. R. Rood, preacher in charge of Millbrook Circuit. 
It is SO' appropriate I let it be the closing chapter: 

MEMORIAL DAY ODE. 

The past is dead, long live the past; 

And may its memory ever last 

In hearts through which the Southern blood 

Leaps on its way an untamed flood. 

For we who bear the Southern name 

Look on the past and find no shame 

Attached to the cause which, though lost, 

Was worth the life-blood which it cost. 

And though the mournful willows wave 

Over the low mounds which we lave 

With bitter tears, we feel, 

We know the future will reveal 

Ttiat each martyred hero doth wear 

A crown of heavenly laurel fair. 

Each spot which heard the dying moans. 

And which in death received the bones 

Of those who freely gave their all. 

In answer to the Southland's call — 

No matter where they may be found, 

Such spots are sacred, holy ground. 

The heroes who sleep 'neath the sods 

Rest in sweet peace, their souls are God's, 

Until the Judgment trump be blown. 

And wrong forever is o'erthrown; 

Then they will rise up one and all 

To answer to the Last Roll Call. 

G. R. ROOD. 
Millbrook, N. C, 

May 7, 1904. 



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